


Head Over Paws

by passivagrestiv



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff, No Ladybug Miraculous (yet) AU, adorkable Adrien, cat son can't take it, stubborn Marinette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 04:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10654698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passivagrestiv/pseuds/passivagrestiv
Summary: Right now, he was seriously considering the choice of wedging yoga back into his already hectic schedule as her petite form emerged from the thick dust clouds, scaring the living hell out of him.





	Head Over Paws

**Author's Note:**

> Found another drabble in my laptop that was written a year ago and saw nothing wrong in posting it (must share my sweet summer child's dorkness). 2016 me had a lot of free time, that's for sure.  
> And oh, do stay posted. I'm still working on my contribution for Adrienette April. It'll come up soon.  
> (This is also cross-posted on my [tumblr ](https://thecatwhosleepsin.tumblr.com/post/159681566236/head-over-paws) by the way)  
> Hope you'll enjoy this sweetness!

She wasn’t supposed to be here

She was supposed to be away from all of this _cat-astrophe_ , safely perched on the rooftop of an abandoned, decrepit building where he had left her, stomping all over the place and cursing his name for being so overbearing.

But no, she had to be herself. So heroic and completely selfless, endearing traits that usually reduced his heart into a dysfunctional pumping mess (Wasn’t it already?), but right now he was seriously considering the choice of wedging yoga back into his already hectic schedule as her petite form emerged from the thick dust clouds, scaring the living hell out of him.

He had been fighting with Excalibur, an akumatized sword-fighting instructor who was opposed to the usage of firearms as means of weapons. (Seriously, it’s the 21st century. Did he time leap or something?)

Excalibur was determined to bring back the nobility of swords. His hatred for guns had escalated when a veteran soldier mocked him for his choice of weaponry, proudly brandished his old, trusty rifle from the past wars and branded him as a _blade maniac_. Enraged, the instructor was left vulnerable to akumatization, allowing him to morph every gun into a sharp sword and change his main blade into any kind of sword he wishes.

Before confronting Excalibur, Chat had immediately requested for a TV broadcast and promptly asked every Parisian to vacate the streets and seek refuge indoors. He had leapt through buildings then, scanning every sidewalk and street for ignorant citizens, but thankfully there were none, or so he thought.

He was about to sigh in relief when he had heard faint footsteps and to his horror, his Princess rushed into view, running on the asphalt road, pigtails in disarray and determination marred her features.

“Chat!” she had called. He would’ve had swooned at the sight of her if it weren’t for the fact that she was nowhere near safety. He had not given her any chance to protest when he swooped down to carry her (her stubbornness left him minor bruises) to the safest building he could possibly find.

“Stay,” he had said firmly, matching the intensity of her glare, and she huffed. He had taken that as a sign of resignation and then he turned to leave, but not before hearing her mumble.

“The akuma, it’s in his sheath.” He had smiled at her insight and then he was gone.

Excalibur was a formidable foe, exhibiting his prowess with the sword at every swing and thrust. Chat had been barely keeping up, dodging and deflecting the attacks with his bo-staff.

He had not gotten close enough to snatch the sheath that was dangling distinctly on Excalibur’s belt, and in some of Chat’s attempts, he had been rewarded with minor cuts on his cheek, arms, and shoulders, slightly thankful that none of them had been fatal, or at least yet.

It was when he abruptly swerved to the left to avoid another swing that Excalibur conjured up another blade in mid-air and poised it above his head to slice downward, so quick that Chat had no time to defend himself.

He had been sulking at the fact that he was going to die without so much as a kiss from his Princess when he was roughly shoved out of the way, grunting as his rear connected with the ground. Excalibur’s sword had collided with the asphalt, its momentum shaking the ground and diffusing clouds of dust.

And there she was. His Princess, his sweet, sweet Marinette, who was incapable of defeating a powerful akuma, who was no Miraculous superhero, who was as delicate and fragile as any other girl but was the most precious to him, stood in front with a rigid defensive stance, a long metal pipe in hand.

Chat wished he was seeing things, but that set of eyes that rivalled the color of sky was unmistakable. But now, a storm brewed in them. Her mouth was pressed into a firm line, her jaw tight and her vicious glare focused on the akuma. Her hands were clenching the metal tube so hard that he thought that it must hurt. (His heart fluttered at the thought that she was downright worried about _him_.)

He was absolutely dumbstruck, eyes rapidly blinking and his mouth agape. No sooner, dust made him choke and he sputtered into coughs. She spared him no glance, no doubt slightly irritated about his recent attempt to whisk her away from danger.

Worry replaced bewilderment, and anger intermixed with desperation.

“Princess, what the hell?!” he all but shouted and then struggled to get back on his feet, his tail flicking furiously on all directions.

What was she doing here? Can’t she see the imminent danger? Can’t she see that she could possibly die?

She shrugged, an action that further swelled his silent rage, exasperation, and fear –a plethora of more foreign emotions bubbling in his stomach. It certainly didn’t help that she wasn’t even looking at him. “You were taking too long.”

Excalibur’s laugh reverberated from a few meters away. “Poor little kitten needs to be saved by a _girl_.” He smirked as he pulled out the sword embedded on the ground. “But, hold your whiskers, Chat Noir. She’s the one who needs saving _now_.”

Chat snarled, eyes glinting dangerously and claws bare. Not a second, he was standing protectively in front of her.

No one can ever hurt Marinette. He will make sure of that.

But before he could charge, a soft hand settled on his shoulder. He stopped.

“Chat, I have a plan,” she said tersely. Firm, stubborn resolution swirled in her eyes and Chat wanted to throw or break something in frustration because no matter how he pleaded, she would not listen.

“No. I won’t let you fight,” he almost hissed, not minding how cold he sounded, but her fire only burned brighter. He was bound to melt.

“I can help you. Trust me,” she entreated now, blue eyes softening just the slightest. “Adrien, _please,”_ she whispered.

Despite the dread and fear that grew in the pits of his stomach, he always trusted her above anything else, even now.

“ _Fine_.”

She smiled a bit, blissfully unaware that he was hurt because all he wanted to do was to protect her, the least he could do for all the kindness she had graced him, but it was something she refused from him the most and it was his job, leather suit and all.

“You are not my shield, Chat,” she had said. “You’re my friend.”

“Distract him.” And like any good cat, he did, throwing himself at Excalibur before the akuma could remember the girl and attacking more vigorously now that he had something very precious to protect.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as she snatched a rope from an abandoned van and a large rock from the sidewalk, tying them together as tightly as she could. He couldn’t help but radiate with pride when she propelled the rope in the right motion, encircling Excalibur’s ankle and pulling him flat on the ground.

Chat immediately kicked his swords away, grabbed the brown sheath and broke it in half. The akuma innocently flew out and he wasted no time to cleanse it with his bo-staff, his power restoring Paris back to normality.

The sword instructor blinked at his surroundings, deeply confused, and Chat was about to approach him out of pity when his miraculous furiously beeped and he fled, dragging Marinette to a dark alley beside a deli.

Green flashed and an obviously perturbed Adrien appeared in Chat’s stead, an exhausted Plagg floating to the pocket of his charge’s jacket. Marinette smiled at the little kwami and gave a little wave.

He turned to her, one of his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “You never listen, do you?” It wasn’t even a question anymore. Marinette was incredibly stubborn, fierce and protective, and now he was once again regretting the day she found out his identity. Her recklessness soared even more.

She haughtily crossed her arms and raised her own eyebrow. “Not even a single ‘thank you’?”  

He ignored her and ran his fingers through his hair. “How many times do we have to talk about this?”

Her beautiful bluebell eyes glowed. “You of all people should know that I won’t just stand around when my friends need help.”

“I’m a superhero, Marinette. You’re a civilian. I have powers. You don’t.”

She was still unfazed. “And your point is?”

He was beyond irritated now. “You could get seriously hurt! Did you see how dangerous Excalibur was? If I wasn’t there, one of those swords could’ve pierced you, Marinette!”

“Correction, it was you who was almost sliced if I wasn’t there,” she sassed.

Adrien let out a frustrated groan and frantically woven his fingers in his hair, tugging at the strands, as he slid down to a crouch in the ground. Why can’t she understand? Why can’t she see how important she was to him?

She bent down to his level and gently took his face in her hands. The stubbornness was still there, but she looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Kitty. I understand that you’re trying to protect me, but you’re important to me as well.” His heart leapt. “I’ll be careful next time. I promise.”

He was still skeptical, but he believed in her and kissed her palm. “Okay.”

A red flush conquered her cheeks and she stood up hastily, holding out a hand to him. He smirked. “The cinnamon rolls should be done by now. Let’s go.”

He took it and stood up, but before she could pull away, he laced his fingers through hers, feeling the boldness of Chat rushing in him.

Her blush intensified and he felt smug, pulling her arm. “Come on, _Purr-incess_.”

She stared at him in disbelief, her blush fading a bit at the pun, and she groaned. “Not again.”

He kissed her knuckles and pulled her along the direction of the bakery, leaving her shrieking behind him, “Stop teasing me!”

He laughed genuinely, his concerns momentarily forgotten as he felt the warmth of her hand in his, squeezing it ever so gently like it might vanish, but when she smiled that beautiful smile that was only reserved for him, the one where her delicate pink lips would curve the slightest and her bluebell eyes would crinkle and sparkle for him like he was everything in the world to her (he liked to believe) just as much as she was to him, he could only hear fervent thumps of his heart and he wondered if her heart was the same, if it was begging to be with him.

He will protect her, the light of his life.


End file.
